


I'll Come Back, I Promise

by orphan_account



Series: DCU Prompts [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Grayson Arc, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 19:45:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4889728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked:<br/>Dickdamian with them trying to get to the manor while being both drunk as fuck and horny as hell but also sentimental</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Come Back, I Promise

Bruce is going to kill them. He is going to break his moral code and murder them both in cold blood. Maybe even Alfred will beat him to it. Either way, they’re dead meat.  
  
Or at least Dick is.

“I’m starting to think you’re lost.”  
  
Dick scoffs and glances over his shoulder. “ _I’m_  lost? Don’t you mean ’ _we_ ’?”  
  
“No because  _I’m_  not a  _ghabi_.”  
  
Thankfully, Bruce had been kind enough to cue Dick in on a few words when Damian was first introduced into the family, seeing as learning Arabic had not been on his agenda at the time being. Turns out the kid was a walking, talking Arabic thesaurus for insults. Who would’ve thought?  
  
“You are so not a fun drunk.” If anything, Damian is more offensive than he is when sober. He’s just so much more…vocal, as if his filter is completely shut down, which means a relentless fire of insults while they stumble through the dark streets of Gotham.  
  
“And I know were we are,” Dick says, his ego a little ruffled. Damian doesn’t say anything, but Dick just  _knows_  there’s a wide smirk on his face as he trails behind him.  
  
“Really now?”  
  
“Your vote of confidence is greatly appreciated.”  
  
He hears Damian tut behind him as he turns around another corner.  
  
Dick didn’t have his first drink when he was twenty-one. Instead, he downed nearly half a bottle of spiced rum at the ripe age of sixteen, and that wasn’t the last time he drank as a minor either. So in short, if he didn’t want to get caught by the big, scary bat flying around the city at night, he’d half to take a few detours so he wouldn’t get his ass hung up to dry.   
  
As far as Dick is concerned, Bruce never found out. And if he did, then it was after he moved out.  
  
But Damian was still a minor—19, but a minor nonetheless—and lived under Bruce’s roof. And though he’s still his snarky, pompous self, Damian’s step falters with a stumble every now and then, and his breath reeks of liquor. Bruce was going to find out if they weren’t careful.  
  
And right now, Dick has a feeling that he can’t brush away—and call it paranoia, but–  
  
“Damian, stop staring at my ass.”  
  
He heard Damian stutter.  
  
“I was not–”  
  
“You so were.”  
  
“You’re repulsive,” Damian says, irritation dripping from his words. Dick can’t help but smile at that.  
  
They walked in silence for a while longer, this time side by side, probably a way of Damian needing to prove Dick wrong by his earlier accusation. It was endearing, regardless. But Damian looks around at the surrounding buildings in question.  
  
“We’re outside Batman’s territory.”  
  
“Yup.” Dick pops the “p” as he kicks a rock across the sidewalk.  
  
“So he has no camera access here, supposedly.”  
  
“Supposedly.”  
  
“Good.”  
  
It takes an embarrassingly long time for Dick’s brain to process that word and understand it was a strange response. By the time he even has the chance to raise an eyebrow and turn his head in question, his back up against the brick wall of a building and his hands are pinned above his head.  
  
“The hell?” When his eyes focus, Damian’s crystal eyes are boring into him. How the hell did he have this much strength and control with 101 proof rum in his system?  
  
Breathing suddenly becomes harder, and Dick blames it on the fact that their just blowing alcohol fumes in each other’s faces, but in all actuality it’s because Damian is just so close and his free hand is up and under his shirt.  
  
“What are you doing?” he breathes, but Damian doesn’t answer right away. His eyes flicker down to Dick’s dry lips as he licks them. Damian’s lips are parted, and Dick can see his tongue shift behind his white teeth. Then his eyes are staring back into his.  
  
“ _Uriiduk_.”  
  
Dick doesn’t know what the word means, but he doesn’t need to. Damian’s tone had changed, his voice gruff and heavy when he whispered the word. His eyes are dark, and Dick can’t pinpoint the emotion swimming around in those irises, but there was one thing Dick knew for certain.  
  
Damian’s voice was practically dripping with lust.  
  
He doesn’t even know what to say, and it proves he doesn’t have to because then Damian’s mouth crashes against his with bruising force. And Dick kisses back without a fight.  
  
Their tongues graze each other, hot and messy, and Dick bites Damian’s lip hard enough to break skin, feeling the hot breath of Damian’s groan brush against his face. He feels Damian murmur foreign words into his skin, words that he may never understand, feels them crawl against his skin and seep through his pores; he feels them graze his bones and curl in his stomach with the heat coiling in his abdomen.  
  
Damian’s fingers trail down lean abs until they reach the waist band of Dick’s jeans. They linger at the button, as if contemplating, before he just shoves his hands down the front of the jeans and grab the prize.  
  
There’s a slight pain in the back of Dick’s head when it thuds against the dirty wall, and he can’t believe Damian did that—he would have never been this bold while sober—but he’s not exactly complaining either.  
  
If anyone were to look out their window right now, they’d certainly have a show, and they’d probably call the police.  
  
Which is Dick’s occupation.  
  
That thought has him breaking the (extremely enjoyable) kiss and grip on his hands so he can remove Damian’s intrusive hand.  
  
“Someone could see us,” he says, and he tries to add a sense of urgency to the statement, but Damian still huffs at him.  
  
“You didn’t seem so concerned earlier when I kissed you,” he says, and that was very true, but Dick’s drunk dammit. His thoughts and priorities are all over the place.  
  
Dick sighs and adjusts his jeans that are fairly tight now.  
  
“I—how about we just…get back to the manor?” He gauges Damian’s face, seeing it turn rigid and cold, and he’s pulling away as if Dick had just wounded his pride.  
  
“Then to my room, if we can make it,” he adds, and he would laugh at how quickly Damian looks at him, his head turning around faster than the Flash and his blue eyes bright with surprise.  
  
“I think we can manage.”  
  
Dick pushes away from the wall and tries to get himself in check; the last thing they need is for him to be the one who jumps Damian in public. But before he even takes five steps, Damian grabs his arm and starts walking.  
  
"What are you doing?” he asks. He can walk just fine on his own.  
  
There’s that annoying smirk on Damian’s face again, and he looks forward as they walk.  
  
“Can’t have you getting lost again.”  
  
They could barely keep their hands off each other before they even made it to the front steps of Wayne manor, and Dick already had his shirt off by the time they made it to his room.  
  
Damian had to be the most dominant bottom Dick has ever known. His back was a mess of bloody scratches, there were hickeys littering his neck and chest, and there were quite a few bitemarks Dick was certain would bruise. All good pain, of course.  
  
Dick can still hear the Arabic curses that flowed out of Damian’s mouth, even while they lied next to each other in the aftermath. Damian’s finger is tracing some of the marks on Dick’s chest, and he simply watches him.  
  
"You’re going away soon,” he says. “On a mission.”  
  
Dick clears his throat. “I am.”   
  
Damian looks at his face, as if he’s searching for something, and his finger stops tracing his skin.  
  
“You will come back this time.” It wasn’t a question, and it was a statement; it was a command. “And if you die, I will bring you back to kill you myself, understood?” He drew closer with every word, now just a few mere inches away from Dick’s face.  
  
“Yeah,” Dick exhales, and Damian bumps their noses together.  
  
“ _Enti eli_ ,” he says, and for once Dick knows what he’s saying. He reaches up and cups the boy’s cheek, his thumb brushing over the high cheekbone.  
  
“ _Naam 7ob_ ,” he murmurs back, and it might’ve been the alcohol messing with his head again, but he swears he saw the corners of Damian’s mouth curl up.

**Author's Note:**

> ghabi - idiot  
> uriiduk - I want you.  
> enti eli - You are mine.  
> Naam 7ob - Yes, love.
> 
> Apologies if the Arabic is wrong. I’m by no means a native speaker, but I wanted to play with the fact that Damian’s native dialect comes out while drunk. If you see any mistakes, please let me know and I’ll fix it.
> 
> This story is terrible and I need to work on my Damian fkghdf


End file.
